Dream of Wings
by WindowChild
Summary: Gregor visits his grandmother, as she lies dying in the hospital.


Things were hard, for Gregor's first week back in the Overland.

It started with the nightmares. Lizzie would wake up screaming, and nobody in their family could do anything to comfort her. Gregor never told, but he could hear her calling for Ripred in her sleep.

Eventually, _he_ would sit with her and hold her hand until she calmed down. The two of them had always been close, but the Underland had connected them in a new way. It was one good thing that had come from their experiences, the silver lining amongst the thunderstorm.

Boots seemed okay. She was disoriented, though. Sometimes she forgot where they were, and would be confused about the sunlight. Gregor's chest ached a little bit, whenever she asked. He had no idea what it do to her if hey moved. She'd probably never get her address straight.

Worst, though, was their grandma. After years of worrying over her health, her life seemed to be culminating in a spiral of hellish incoherence. Their nightmare never ended, even during the day.

Their first few days home were spent in the hospital waiting room, worrying over doctors and heart monitors. It was a nice distraction actually, however painful it might have been.

It was funny, her failing wellbeing had always seemed irrelevant. Sure, they knew her memory was slipping, but she always acted okay. They'd had no idea that her heart was failing, or that she wouldn't last much longer. The doctor had said another week. If they were lucky.

Gregor sat on the bench in the hallway, kicking his heel against the wall. Except for the first day there, he had refrained from seeing his grandmother. He couldn't handle it. Definitely not yet, and he doubted at all.

Lizzie had done it. For someone so shy and jumpy, Gregor marveled at her courage. She'd come out of the room bawling, but had forced herself back in every day. Gregor wished he could be as brave as her, in this sort of sense.

"Are you okay?" he asked, on the eighth day. They'd just passed the one-week mark, and it hadn't slipped by unnoticed.

She nodded, tears dripping noiselessly down her flushed cheeks. Gregor pulled her onto his lap, sighing quietly. They never got a break.

"Gregor?" It was Grace, coming out of the hospital room. She seemed relatively calm, considering.

"Baby, she's asking for you." She carefully brushed back Gregor's hair, looking into his eyes.

"What?" Gregor asked, momentarily confused. "She remembers?"

Grace nodded, tears filling her eyes. "Yeah. Honey, they said it won't be long now. Another couple of days. You should – you should see her." Gregor stared at his lap. "Gregor? Can you?" She was pleading with him, and he nodded silently.

"Okay." She exhaled, sitting down beside her children. "I'm going to take Lizzie home. Dad will be here in a little with Boots, alright?

"Yeah." He leaned into her, allowing her to kiss his cheek. Lizzie climbed off of him and went to hug her.

"Oh, what would I do without you," she murmured, arms around each of them. "Gregor, honey, are you going to okay in there?"

"Sure," he lied, forcing a half-smile. "Fine. I'll see you later."

He waited until they had left, hand in hand, to collapse back on the bench. He couldn't do it. It seemed small, for the Warrior, but he couldn't see someone and _know_ that they would die soon. It was different than watching someone killed in battle. Besides, his grandma had known him since he was born. It was a deeper sort of pain.

He allowed himself two minutes to sit, heart thumping and eyes tearing. He'd told his mom that he'd see her, though; he felt like he had to do it. And he knew he'd regret if he didn't have a 'last time'.

Last time. It had become far too common; it had become too big a part of his life. He realized, with a stiff jolt to his kneecaps, that he didn't _know_ this was the last time he'd be seeing her. If it went well, he could go back the next day.

He hated that he'd started expecting the worst from life. Assuming that death and despair were inevitable was not the way he wanted to live. And really, it shouldn't have been that way. His last piece of time with the Underland had been happy, promising of good things to come. Still, it had left him feeling like life was a disappointment.

"Grandma…" He'd been so distracted, that he hadn't even noticed his feet taking him to the door. His throat seized up, his breath thunderous. She looked so helpless…

Her eyes were shut, and for a second his panic reached boiling point. He noticed the chart was still beeping though, so she was probably just asleep. He relaxed a fraction, and took another step into the room.

It smelled. Like his grandma, mixed with cleaning detergent and sickness. It wasn't that bad, but for a second he thought he might start gagging. He didn't like the feeling of hospitals.

He forced back a dry sob, realizing how much things had changed. The last time he'd been in a hospital, Boots was born. A happy time in a hospital. It seemed very foreign now.

"Grandma." His voice wavered, and he felt an onslaught of memories harassing his imagination. When he was three, and she baked him sugar cookies. When he was five, and she read picture books to him. When he was nine, and she removed a splinter from his foot. It was too much. He was about to run from the room when he heard a gasp.

"Grandma?" He blinked, wishing he could say something else.

Her eyes fluttered briefly, and then she smiled. He could not remember the last time she had smiled like that, looking younger and freer than ever.

"Oh Gregor," she rasped, reaching out a bony finger to him. He ran to her, taking her hand in his.

"What is it Grandma?"

"It's wonderful."

"What is?" He watched her closely, looking for signs of hallucination.

"The Underland."

Silence spread before them, and Gregor felt all air leave his chest. Of all the things she could have said, that was the last he'd been expecting. Was it bad, he wondered, that a slight of his mind was angry? He'd managed to avoid thinking about it for about five full minutes.

"W-what?" he stuttered.

"It's beautiful. Oh Gregor, I'm so happy I could see it."

"See it? Grandma, what are you talking about?" His fingers trembled as he clung to her hand, worried – as always – that he was losing her.

"I saw it." Her breath sounded weak, yet in awe. "Just now. I'm so happy you were there."

"Happy I was there…" Gregor echoed, stunned. He had no idea why she was talking like this. Did she dream about it?

"Gregor," she whispered, squeezing his hand with a fragile grip, "He carried me away."

"He did?" Gregor asked deciding to just go along with it. His grandma in the Underland. Despite how incredible depressing both aspects of it were, he nearly smiled.

"Yes. Big black wings carried me into the city." She shut her eyes, unaware of Gregor's newly damp eyes. "It's called Regalia."

Again, breath left her grandson. She could barely remember Gregor's name, let alone the name of a city that she'd only _heard_ mentioned a couple of times.

"But we didn't stop there." Her voice rose, evidently with joy.

"You didn't?" Gregor asked shakily, forcing himself to inhale.

"No… I'm not staying there. He carried me, Gregor, he told me he'd take me anywhere I wanted to go."

Gregor cleared his throat, his mind flipping onto its side. Should he ask? Should he voluntarily do that to himself? "Who's 'he'?"

She opened her eyes, staring at Gregor with sudden electricity. "Yours."

"What?" Gregor breathed. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant.

"His name is Ares."

He clenched his fist, unsure as to whether he was going to throw up or cry. How did she know what his name was? Gregor used to talk about Ares to her, a little bit, but he hadn't mentioned him in ages. Not since a while before the flier's death.

"Grandma," he said, his voice blotted by emotion, "How did – "

"He told me," she replied, interrupting him. "He misses you, my Gregor." Her Gregor. He didn't remember the last time she'd said that, if ever. Her hand traveled shakily to Gregor's cheekbone. Its comforting warmth broke the dam to his eyes, and tears slipped down his cheeks. Ares and his Grandma. The two beings who he really, really couldn't think about.

"How did you talk to him, Grandma?" Gregor asked, putting his hand on top of hers.

"He spoke to me," she said. "He told me not to worry."

Gregor swallowed. That's what people said about their ancestors or God, right before they died. She couldn't… she couldn't have seen Ares, anymore than he could handle losing her at this very moment. His heart rate sped, egged on by the panic of these notions.

"How did you know it was him?"

"I knew."

"He told you?" Gregor wiped at his eyes, concerned that he was losing his mind.

"No… I knew. He's going to carry me Gregor, I don't have to worry."

"Grandma," Gregor replied. "Are you sure it wasn't just a dream? Maybe you were thinking about all of the stories I'd told you…" All the stories. That was an exaggeration, at best. He used to tell her about it, but even then her ability to absorb the information was weak.

"No, Gregor," she said, her voice suddenly quiet. "He loved you. I could feel it, as he carried me… away…" She stopped speaking, and Gregor only nodded.

Then, his world crashed. Without a prelude, other than the one she'd just given him, she was gone. He knew he'd always regret the fact that he didn't notice she was saying goodbye. He could have stopped her, maybe, if he'd realized what it was. He could have told her that 'Ares' only meant in general, and that she didn't have to leave them yet.

He didn't yell for a doctor. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. 'Hello, my grandma's machine just stopped beeping?' No, curling up in a ball and crying seemed like the preferable solution. He would have done it too, if he hadn't been worried about his inability to stop once he'd started.

He hadn't really accepted any of it yet. Not losing Ares or Luxa or the Underland itself. He couldn't bring himself to process this, when he hadn't processed that. It didn't seem fair, for lack of a better word.

In the end, Gregor remained by her side. He clenched her lifeless palm, his own skin keeping it warm. He'd stay there, he knew, until his dad came with Boots. Then he'd have to explain that they lost her, right under his watch. God, what else could he do to his family?

His tears started then, despite his willing them away though. They weren't out of sorrow though, not really. Those would come later, when the burden of growing up too quickly finally caught up with him. He cried out of self-pity, out of hating the world for doing this to him. They'd given him the adventure that most kids dreamed about – and then they'd burned it to the ground.

His heartbroken sobs were all for himself; something he had wrongly criticized Luxa for, ages ago. Being sad about his own personal world was easy, and for now it was all he could bring himself to feel.

Black wings. She said they'd carried her into the city. It was funny, that she'd phrased it that way. He rode on Ares's back, not his wings_._ Maybe she had only meant to be metaphorical or was speaking generally, or maybe dying people knew how to travel a different way. Gregor didn't know, and he didn't want to guess.

His tears fell faster and faster, as he remember their conversation. He was screaming, his sobs drenching his pant leg as he hunched forward. _He loved you._ They'd been brothers, by the end. Ares had made the ultimate sacrifice, if only to save Gregor his life. How could he lose him too? It made him fear that he'd lose his sisters and parents too.

Really, what was he supposed to do? He was broken, and there was no foreseeable fix to his misery. This pain, it wasn't going to get better. He knew he'd always want to go to the Underland, and if he was in the Underland, he'd always be thinking about those who were missing. So what was he supposed to do?

He realized then, that maybe his tears were somewhat for the others. He missed them, simply and plainly.

With sudden force, a warm sensation came about his shoulders. It was as if he were being enveloped, hugged by those who weren't with him. _Wrapped in Ares's wings. _His body shuddered, still surrounded by paths of singular agony.

It took a moment, but as he calmed, he realized something. They were with him. Ares, his grandma. Maybe even Twitchtip or somebody. They'd watch over him. After all, Ares had seen enough to know that Gregor's grandma needed him. Maybe he'd keep watching, and know when Gregor needed him too. It didn't make it all better and it certainly didn't heal anything, but for a second, Gregor thought that eventually he might be okay.

A/N: Hope you liked it, despite the depressing mood. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
